happy is what happens when all your dreams come true
by janemac24
Summary: [non-magical AU set in Season 1] Both determined to win the battle for their son's affection, Emma and Regina end up starring opposite each other in Storybrooke Community Theatre's production of Wicked. Shenanigans ensue. Swan Queen one-shot.


Swan Queen Season 1 AU: Storybrooke is a quirky small town – no curse, no magic. Cora is alive and leading a largely unsuccessful community theatre initiative.

Secret Santa gift for rejinamills on Tumblr.

Reviews are welcome.

* * *

><p><strong>i. are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?<strong>

"What's up, Dr. H?" Emma demands, plopping down in the booth across from her kid's therapist and swiping a finger through the whipped cream on her cocoa. It's odd – he'd called her out of the blue yesterday, much chattier than usual, and she thinks there can only been one explanation.

He wants something from her.

And all the hemming and hawing that's going on at the other side of the table is doing nothing to ease her suspicions.

But then, for no apparent reason, he remarks, "Did you know that Storybrooke Community Theatre is putting on a production of _Wicked?"_

Emma whistles. "_Wicked_, huh? Isn't that kind of a big one?" What she implies (but doesn't say, because Hopper _loves_ all projects that foster community involvement) is that Storybrooke Community Theatre is kind of small potatoes. Their production of _Peter Pan_ had drawn no more than six audience members.

"Right," Hopper says eagerly, "which is why they're looking for fresh talent: new people to audition."

_There it is_, Emma thinks, smirking, but she tries to hold it off a bit longer. "Sounds like a good idea. Is there a flyer you want me to put up in the sheriff's station?"

"Actually, I was hoping you might... I mean, it would look great for us if the new deputy... I'm sure you're busy, of course, but you have such a lovely singing voice and –"

"Hold up!" Emma interrupts. "_Lovely_ singing voice? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I've heard you singing to yourself on your way to work."

Emma's face burns as she considers the lyrics of her typical song choices.

"The proceeds from the show will go to the orphanage."

Rolling her eyes – so _this_ is how he plans to get her on board – Emma points out, "Maybe they should try a more lucrative fundraiser, like a lemonade stand."

Hopper sighs and takes a small sip of his tea, eyes wide and pleading. "Couldn't you audition?" he wheedles. "It would mean a lot to me."

"Free time would mean a lot to _me_."

"It would mean a lot to the kids."

"Why not find them parents instead? I'm sure they'd like that more."

"It would mean a lot to Mary Margaret, I'm sure. And especially Henry."

_That weasel._

"Fine," she grits out, "but don't expect some kind of Tony-winning performance. I probably won't even get a part."

"Thank you so much!" Hopper calls after her as she storms out the door, scowling all the way.

[***]

"I said no, Mother," Regina sighs, nose-deep in paperwork.

"You're the mayor, dear."

"Precisely, which is why I'm far too busy to audition for your silly little play."

"Silly little play?" Cora sniffs, insulted. "I won six Tonys back in the day. I was known as the Queen of Broadway."

Regina sighs again, louder. "Yes, Mother, I know. But that doesn't mean –"

"It would be good for your image to have more hands-on involvement in community endeavors. Sometimes I worry the people don't love you."

Biting back the sharp response on the tip of her tongue – her mother has always known just how to hurt her – Regina takes a deep breath and points out, "It doesn't matter if they love me. They elected me, so clearly they trust me to run their town."

"Think of how happy it would make Henry," Cora wheedles. "How long has it been since he's seen you as the fun mom?"

At that, Regina storms out of the room, cursing under her breath as she tries not to cry. "Auditions are on Thursday!" Cora calls after her. "Don't be late!"

* * *

><p><strong>ii. and this gift or this curse that I have inside, maybe at last I'll know why<strong>

The drive back from the audition is tense and silent, with Regina glowering and Cora humming to herself with a giant grin on her face that somehow feels unearned.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asks, voice falsely innocent. "Your knuckles are white on the steering wheel."

"You _know_ what the matter is, Mother," growls Regina. "You made me read with that horrible Swan woman three times."

Cora shrugs, still grinning. "You had such excellent chemistry, though. I could practically feel the tension in the room! That's not something you can train, even with the best actors."

"Miss Swan is hardly one of the 'best actors.'"

"Well, as I said, you have amazing chemistry."

"What you see as chemistry and tension is really just our simmering hatred of each other."

"It's entertaining," Cora says, looking vaguely mischievous. As they pull into the driveway, she pats Regina on the shoulder and says, "I think this year's show will be one of our best."

Regina sits in the car for a long time after her mother departs, head against the steering wheel. She doubts that killing Henry's biological mother will do anything to increase his affection towards her, but that just might happen if Cora ends up following through with her plans.

[***]

"Who the hell is Glinda?" Emma wonders out loud, glancing over the cast list. She's shocked her name is on it – and that her part actually has a name. She figured she'd be a spare munchkin at most.

"Glinda?" exclaims Mary Margaret as she races into the room and snatches the paper right out of Emma's hands. "You don't know? She's one of the main characters!"

"I, uh –"

"Come on, Emma, you've seen _The Wizard of Oz_. She's the good witch."

Emma thinks, and thinks, and –

_Oh, no._

"She's not the one who wears the poofy blue dress, is she?" Her tone is suspiciously close to a whine, but she doesn't care.

Mary Margaret considers for a moment, and then chirps, "Actually, I think in _Wicked_, it's pink."

Emma buries her face in her hands and wonders if there's some kind of fate-master who has it out for her.

* * *

><p><strong>iii. there's a strange exhilaration in such total detestation<strong>

"You."

"You."

There's a moment when neither of them knows what to do, intermittently staring each other down and casting pleading glances around the room for someone, _anyone_, to step in and say this is all some huge misunderstanding.

It's Emma who finds her voice first. "You're...you're Elphaba, right?"

"Yes," Regina grits out. "And I suppose you're Glinda."

"Makes sense for you to get the lead – being mayor and all," Emma mutters.

"Makes sense for you to be the useless blonde, just like in real life," Regina fires back.

Emma rolls her eyes. "That may have been unnecessarily hostile," she points out. "After all, I didn't _actually_ insult you."

"I can read between the lines."

They spend another moment glaring at each other before Cora steps in. "Okay, girls, this is wonderful method acting for Elphaba and Galinda's first scene together, but we're not actually rehearsing yet, so maybe you could tone it down."

As she allows her mother to usher away, Regina hears Emma murmur under her breath, "This is going to be the longest three months of my life."

And as much as she detests the woman, she has to agree.

* * *

><p><strong>iv. those who don't try never look foolish<strong>

Emma's head jerks up as the door chime jingles, and she groans when she sees that it's her roommate walking in the door. Things are about to get messy. "Emma!" Mary Margaret exclaims. "Shouldn't you be at rehearsal?"

"I –"

The words of protest Emma is about to offer die out when she sees who's walking in behind the schoolteacher. "Henry, what's up?"

He looks her up and down suspiciously. "You have rehearsal right now," he says matter-of-factly. "With my mom. That's why I'm supposed to go home with Miss Blanchard."

"I –"

"Why aren't you there?" Mary Margaret demands.

"Um... well, see, the thing is... I'm just not good at acting!" she finally bursts out.

Henry looks disappointed. "So, you quit the show?"

"Not exactly."

Now Mary Margaret looks disappointed. "You just failed to show up without telling them?"

"Pretty much."

"Emma! You can't just run away from all of your problems! That's not how life works."

"Yeah, thanks _Mom_," she says sarcastically, staring down at her cocoa.

When Mary Margaret finally stops glaring and storms over to the counter to place her own order, Henry whispers, "Is my mom being mean to you?"

She doesn't respond, but her silence seems to tell him enough. "I thought so."

"She's not so bad," Emma protests. "I just don't like acting and she's not helping."

Henry just shakes his head, and Emma feels her heart sink to her stomach. This is probably the opposite of what Archie had wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>v. don't be offended by my frank analysis (think of it as personality dialysis)<strong>

"I don't like Emma Swan's attitude," Cora grouses over dinner. "How could she just skip a rehearsal? It's as if she doesn't even care about the –"

"Miss Swan cares about nobody but herself," Regina says stiffly, avoiding Henry's eyes. "She enjoys causing other people distress."

Cora sighs. "I'll talk to her. If she misses one more rehearsal, I'll have to think about finding her a replacement. We need actors who are going to be serious about their commitment."

Finally, Henry – who had been silent all evening – opens his mouth. "Maybe she wouldn't have skipped rehearsal if you weren't so mean to her!" he challenges Regina.

_Mean _to her? When has she ever been _mean_ to Miss Swan? Well, there were a few instances at their last rehearsal when some of her remarks may have been in poor taste, and perhaps a few other times as well, but it's _Emma Swan_. She's the one who –

"Dear, you're turning purple," Cora observes.

"I have certainly never been mean to Miss Swan!" Regina sputters. "She and I –"

"Actually, you have," says Cora.

"Well, if she's using that as an excuse to act unprofessionally, then I will have you know –"

"She's not!" Henry exclaims. "She even tried to defend you because she didn't want me to be mad, but I know you hurt her feelings."

"I hurt _her_ feelings?" Regina practically shouts. "She came into this town with the singular purpose of –"

"Regina!" Jerking her head toward Henry, Cora interrupts her daughter's outburst and tuts loudly. "_Both _you and Miss Swan are being incredibly immature about this. Apologize."

Regina's jaw drops. "Apologize?!

"I won't have this idiotic squabble of yours ruining my play. Apologize to Miss Swan or I'll find a replacement for you."

Speechless, Regina gapes at her mother, but Cora is unmoved and simply returns to her dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>vi. sudden silence, sudden heat<strong>

Regina paces, wringing her hands, as she waits for Emma to enter the diner. At Henry's urging, she'd ordered the other woman her favorite cocoa, but she still has no idea what to say to her. _I'm sorry if I said something that offended_ –

That's the thing, though. She's not sorry. Whatever she'd said to offend Miss Swan – or, more likely, any number of things that she's said or done over the last few months – had been wholly deserved. The woman is, at best, a nuisance, and at worst –

Well, it's not as if she could _actually_ take Henry away. And, if Regina's calm enough to be rational about the whole thing, she knows that was never what Emma had wanted. (The fact that Henry had briefly wanted it is an entirely different problem, but she and Dr. Hopper are in the process of dealing with that.)

"You called, Madam Mayor?" the other woman drawls, poking her head in the door. It's six-thirty in the morning, and they're the only two in the diner for once.

"I bought you cocoa," Regina says abruptly. "Sit down."

Emma eyes the mug with suspicion. "Why did you call me?" she asks. "Is this about my paperwork? Because I told Graham –"

"No, not at all," Regina replies, waving toward a corner table. Eyebrow still arched, Emma follows. "This is about the play."

"Look, I only tried out for that play because Hopper convinced me the deputy sheriff should be more involved with the community. I didn't think I'd actually get a part – I didn't _want_ to get a part, especially not one of the leads. I'll drop out if you want; you can get someone better than me – maybe Kathryn Nolan? I mean, I don't even like –"

"No! I don't want you to drop out!" she exclaims, even though that's exactly what she wants. Taking a deep breath, she smooths her tone and says, "Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Quite the – what?"

"I actually called you here to apologize," says Regina, carefully avoiding the deputy's eyes. She's been told that Swan's fairly skilled at spotting a liar. "If I treated you unfairly – if that's what caused you to avoid rehearsal – then I'm very sorry. It won't happen again."

Emma swipes a finger through the whipped cream on her cocoa and frowns.

"I'm not lying," Regina says desperately.

Emma glares.

"I'll try not to let it happen again," she amends, and the deputy nods.

"Good," Emma mutters. Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, "Thank you for the cocoa."

Regina jerks her head to one side in acknowledgement and gets up to leave, but a question occurs to her before she reaches the door. "Miss Swan," she asks, suddenly turning around, "did you really skip rehearsal because I was _mean_ to you?"

Practically choking on her cocoa, Emma demands, "Is that what Henry said, because I never said –"

"_Did you?_"

"I didn't tell Henry that, if that's what you're asking. I wouldn't say stuff like that to him, and you know it."

For some reason, Regina feels her throat constrict. She leaves the diner without another word, well aware of the fact that Emma Swan is rolling her eyes behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>vii. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game<strong>

"Why are you so cranky?" Henry asks after taking one look at Emma's face. She's here to pick him up from his appointment with Dr. Hopper, and it turns out she's not great at hiding her emotions.

"Nothing, just...stuff," she mutters, wondering if this is how parents are supposed to act around their children. Probably not.

Henry looks at her thoughtfully for a moment and then declares. "You just got left rehearsal. My mom was being mean to you again."

"What? No!" Emma exclaims. Actually, Regina had been scrupulously polite to her today, if a little cold. It was kind of strange, actually. Regina's much easier to deal with when they're sniping at each other.

"I knew it," says Henry, shaking his head disappointedly. "The Evil Queen strikes again."

Dr. Hopper is standing behind him with one eyebrow raised and Emma wants to bash her head against a wall. "Look, kid, she's not the _Evil Queen_," she growls. "And she wasn't mean to me. I told you, I just don't like acting. Or singing," she adds with a pointed glance at the therapist.

"But she –"

"Your mom isn't evil!" Emma practically yells. "And maybe the reason she's mean to _me_ is because you keep calling her stupid shit like 'Evil Queen' when she raised you and gave you a pretty good life – ever think of that? Not everyone gets the privilege of having decent parents who love them, so maybe you should stop taking your for granted!" She's about to storm off when she suddenly that he's actually her kid and she's not supposed to just leave him there (not that it would be the first time).

Henry's mouth is hanging open and Emma almost feels bad until she hears a cold voice from behind her remark, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't use such inappropriate language in front of my son, Miss Swan, although I can't say I disagree with the sentiment. Come on, Henry, we're going home."

Emma gapes at the both of them, Henry trailing along behind the mayor like a guilty puppy dog, and then she turns to Dr. Hopper. "I didn't –"

"He needed to hear it," the therapist says with a shrug. "It might make more of an impact coming from you. Maybe not in those words, though."

"Yeah, sorry," she mutters, scuffing her shoes against the carpet.

Hopper smiles tightly and asks, "Is there anything going on, Emma?"

"What do you mean?"

It's just that I've never heard you defend Regina like that before. I've never heard you defend Regina at all, actually. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," Emma says uncomfortably. "I just decided to do the right thing for once."

"Why?" asks Hopper.

Emma sighs and rolls her eyes. "I don't know! Are you billing me for this?"

"I'm Henry's therapist, not yours. But if you need someone to talk to, I can..."

She doesn't hear the rest: she's already stormed off. Why does she need a special reason for doing the right thing? And _was_ it the right thing if it's going to make Henry hate her?

Maybe Henry should hate her, actually. Better than hating his mom who seems to have done nothing but love and provide for him his entire life. She still thinks Mayor Mills is an asshole – doesn't mean she's a bad mother, though.

* * *

><p><strong>viii. there are bridges you crossed you didn't know you crossed until you crossed<strong>

Regina tosses and turns all night, Emma Swan's words running through her head over and over until she's not even sure what to make of them anymore. To say that she's surprised would be an understatement – she's always assumed Miss Swan had the same opinion about her that her son did, at the very least.

In her less rational moments, she'd even gone so far as to assume his birth mother was the one putting these thoughts into Henry's head, although she knows that's logistically not possible – he's the one that had gone to find her, after all.

Still, the idea that Emma wouldn't hate her – would even go so far as to defend her to Henry when no one else ever –

No, why does she care if Emma Swan thinks she's a good mother? She's not here to win _her_ good opinion.

But if it influences Henry's –

No, it's too late to think that way. She'd lost her chance at an alliance with her son's birth mother long ago.

And she doesn't care. Emma Swan is an idiot. An unbearable idiot who, in spite of everything she's been through, is somehow still a good person who wants to do the right thing for her son and still defends Regina, who's been nothing but cruel to her the entire time they've known each other.

There were a few instances – her apple tree may never recover – when Emma had, admittedly, been rather petty, but perhaps...

Regina sighs and rolls over, flipping her pillow to the cold side. She's too tired to think about this now.

She eventually drifts off, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach remains until the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>ix. my wildest dreamings could not foresee lying beside you, with you wanting me<strong>

"Miss Swan."

"Mayor Mills."

There's a brief stare-down as they both wait for the other to speak first, and Emma finally groans. "You started it," she points out.

"It's about yesterday," Regina says shortly.

"Look, I'm sorry for swearing in front of Henry," Emma says, staring down at her feet as her cheeks flush. "I was having a bad day; it won't happen again." She looks up, then, and stares apprehensively at the mayor. "And you're about to say, 'No, it won't because you're never going to see him again.' Right?"

Regina swallows. "No, actually, I was thinking... I actually wanted... I wanted to thank you," she finally manages to spit out.

"Thank me?"

"For... what you said, even if it was... it meant a great deal to me."

Emma tugs at the zipper of her coat, looking even pinker. "It was nothing. Kid's gotta stop going around insulting you for no reason. Although I have to wonder where he got that from," she adds under her breath.

"It was just surprising," Regina continues, even though all of her better judgment is telling her to stop talking immediately. "I suppose I'd expected you to hate me."

Now Emma looks shocked. "Hate you? I could never _hate_ you. Dislike, sure, but you adopted my kid and kept him from living the way I did, so that's a major point in your favor."

"Right," Regina mumbles.

Emma's still talking. "I mean, you're kind of a jerk – no offense. But, like, a funny jerk. I like arguing with you. It's almost kind of sexy, if you know what I mean."

Suddenly, she claps a hand over her mouth. "I was – I didn't mean it like that!" she exclaims quickly.

Regina quirks an eyebrow and asks, "Then how did you mean it."

"You know, just... we have these fights," Emma says, voice desperate. "And you piss me off so much I can't tell whether I want to punch you in the face or kiss you."

"That seems healthy," Regina says sarcastically, but the uneasy feeling is back.

"I should just stop talking," mumbles Emma.

"Your foot appears to be solidly in your mouth," Regina observes. "So yes, perhaps you should."

"Please tell me you know what I mean, though."

"No."

"Come on, Regina! I know you feel it, too. There was that time at the mine –"

"I was under duress: my son could have died. And you –" _You saved him_, she thinks. "- were in the way," she finishes lamely.

"You have to admit there's something between us!"

"On the contrary, dear," Regina says with a smirk, admiring the way Emma's face has gone from pink to purple, "I don't _have_ to admit anything."

"What are you doing?" Emma growls. "You're trying to piss me off, aren't you? Do you get some kind of sick pleasure from this?"

_Maybe_.

"I guess you're just going to have to punch me in the face," she says before she fully thinks her words through. "Or kiss me."

A split second later, Emma's lips are against hers and she's practically falling against the wall, gasping. The kiss is forceful, hungry, full of equal amounts of lust and hatred in a way that's both pleasurable and terrifying at the same time. When they break apart, it's Regina who immediately leans back in for more. And then she hears another gasp from across the room and realizes what an awful idea all of this was.

* * *

><p><strong>x. my road of good intentions led where such roads always lead<strong>

Cora paces back and forth furiously as Emma and Regina exchange troubled glances. "Why, of all the unprofessional –"

"Mother," Regina tries to explain, "we weren't –"

"When I said I wanted you to get along, I didn't mean like _that!_"

"With all due respect, we're adults and –"

"Are you trying to ruin my production?!" shouts Cora.

"No, we –"

"I can't have the two leads doing... doing whatever this is that you were doing! This is not acceptable!"

"Mother, it's –"

"You're both out of the play."

Regina blinks. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You can take your misconduct elsewhere; I don't have time for actors who aren't serious about their craft."

"We –"

"Like you're going to find serious actors in Storybrooke?" Emma scoffs.

"Out!"

Emma shuffles out the door, with Regina right behind her. If she stares hard enough, she swears she can almost see the deputy's tail dragging on the ground behind her.

"Should we talk?" she asks quietly when they're finally out on the sidewalk. "About what just happened."

Emma shrugs. "We got kicked out of the play like a couple of teenagers. Kind of humiliating, but I can't say I'll miss the rehearsals. I can't imagine your thoughts on the matter being much different."

"No, I meant about our kiss."

"Oh," Emma mumbles, looking away. "Sorry about that. I guess I got kind of carried away."

"Well, you weren't the only one."

"I was out of line, though. Totally not respecting your boundaries. Next time, I'll –"

"I did tell you to kiss me," Regina says embarrassedly.

"Okay, so we kissed and it's both of our faults. What else do you want to talk about?"

Regina considers for a moment and finally replies, "Actually, let's not talk now – we always seem to bungle that. Let's do it again."

* * *

><p><strong>xi. like a comet pulled from orbit<strong>

"It looks like Mary Margaret's really happy in that pink dress," Henry observes, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "But I don't think Ruby likes the green face paint."

"No, she's just acting," Emma disagrees. "Elphaba's supposed to be kind of a sourpuss. That's why they gave the part to your mom in the first place."

Regina clears her throat and glares at both of them. "Don't talk during the play," she hisses.

Rolling his eyes, Henry continues, "It's too bad you guys got kicked out, but maybe it's kind of better this way. Now nobody will make fun of me because my moms were in a crappy play." Fully expecting to be chastised for his language, he turns his head to find that neither of his mothers is paying any attention to him.

"Guys, no kissing in public!" he whines, tossing popcorn at them until they separate. "Maybe Grandma was right: you _are_ unprofessional."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Professionalism is for idiots - right, Madam Mayor?" Regina replies with another kiss, and Henry sighs. He'd never expected his wish for his mothers to get along would come true - and certainly not this much.


End file.
